


A Rare Dish

by Stariceling



Category: Toriko (Anime & Manga)
Genre: M/M, Original Character(s), Past Abuse, Sexually Transmitted Diseases, Starvation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-28
Updated: 2012-06-28
Packaged: 2017-12-06 04:45:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/731579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stariceling/pseuds/Stariceling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Aimaru eats diseases, so happens when it's a sexually transmitted disease on the menu? References to past starvation/abuse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Rare Dish

A sob, a breathless little whine, and Aimaru looked up to check on his patient. The boy had both hands clasped over his face to hide himself. He was shaking all over, stomach shuddering with tension, his toes digging little holds in the bedspread even as he tried to hold his legs still as Aimaru had asked him too.

It was probably just embarrassment at his own arousal, but Aimaru had to be sure. Something like this wasn’t just dinner. For the patient whose body held his current meal, this was healing.

“Am I hurting you?”

Gulp. Shudder. Breath. “No.”

Was that shame, or fear? Aimaru couldn’t be sure, not sure enough to continue anyway. He didn’t often eat _this_ sort of disease. There were too many complications involved, and most of them had been bothering him from the start. First and foremost on his list, there was usually a partner involved somewhere, and the boy hadn’t made the slightest mention of one. That didn’t bode well.

“There are other treatment options,” Aimaru pointed out. It would take months of expensive treatment, but this wasn’t an incurable disease except in very rare cases.

“No!” That at least got the hands away from his face, but the look of horror only increased Aimaru’s suspicions. “If I do that, he’ll-” He cut himself off with an angry noise, wrenching his head to one side to avoid Aimaru’s gaze, but that was enough.

There was only one clinic in the area equipped to handle a disease like this. So the possibility of running into whatever partner he’d had was that bad?

“This might be faster, but it can’t be done without some pain,” Aimaru warned. For the third time that evening. His patient hadn’t seemed to listen the first two times, either.

“That’s fine. I’ve always been a bit of a masochist anyway.”

Aimaru matched the boy’s silence this time, waiting while his patient stubbornly refused to meet his eyes. It was hard not to think of him as a ‘boy,’ though he had defensively told Aimaru he was twenty-two, a stress on the last syllable suggesting this was a recent upgrade. He had a strong, bony set to his jaw and shoulders, but that only seemed to highlight how badly his frame needed to be filled out. He was far too skinny to be anything approaching conventionally attractive. Was he starving himself from stress, or was he so badly off he couldn’t afford food, let alone medical care?

After a long, silent stalemate, the boy ran his tongue nervously over the spot where Aimaru had noticed he was missing a tooth. He had been trying to hide it, trying to speak without opening his mouth properly.

“He already offered to pay for the treatment for me.” Embarrassment gave way suddenly to flinty anger. “But I’m never going back.”

“Who is it?”

There was a spark in those sharp eyes now. He spat the name out like it left a poisonous taste in his mouth, and Aimaru wasn’t entirely surprised he recognized it. The leader of the same rotten poaching ring he was here to deal with. Aimaru didn’t believe in fate, exactly, but it was fitting to help not just the endangered ingredients but also the human victims of the same affair.

His thoughtful silence must have been mistaken for pity. Aimaru found his hand grabbed and pressed to the boy’s abdomen.

“I’m fine, see? I’m doing a lot better. You can’t even feel the ribs anymore.”

Aimaru rubbed his hand gently in place. He could just barely feel the curve of the lowest floating rib before the dip of that too-thin stomach, but other than that individual bones weren’t standing out. Rather than pity, he felt a sort of sick anger deep in his own stomach. What sort of bastard indiscriminately hunted near-extinct animals for the black market and at the same time starved his own lover?

He could feel the sharp little breaths of silent anger pressing into his hand. Aimaru pushed away all thoughts of the poacher he would be dealing with tomorrow. This boy was the only one who deserved his attention right now, and he would have all of it.

A firm kiss from Aimaru startled him long enough for the stubborn anger to fade. Dark brown eyes widened in surprise, seeming to become darker as his pupils dilated. Aimaru tried to ease the shock with an ongoing shower of kisses.

“No matter how carefully I eat your disease, it will feel sexual.” He knew trying to soothe by simply saying, ‘don’t be embarrassed, don’t be scared,’ or anything like that would gain him more defensive anger at most.

“And foreplay is supposed to help that how?”

“If it’s going to feel like sex, it should at least be good sex, don’t you think?”

That earned him a spectacular blush. It was surprisingly endearing, particularly when his kisses were returned. The same uncertainty and embarrassment were still there, but Aimaru was only concerned with avoiding undue fear or pain.

Aimaru ran hands and mouth over the body stretched out before him, as if that was his true feast. He made his way slowly down, down, watching each reaction as he went. Before eating anything Aimaru used his mouth to draw out pleasure, bringing his patient–and for tonight, his lover–to climax.

Once the boy was temporarily insensible from release, Aimaru settled down to eat. The sores he found were still faint, only in the early stages of the disease, and he was forced to use his teeth. The sweet-and-sour mix of blood and virulent bacteria formed a more satisfying meal than he had expected. Aimaru had to fight the distraction, reminding himself not to cause any avoidable pain while he squeezed reassuringly at his patient’s backside with both hands.

Aimaru heard the little half-stifled cries and moans, but he thought they were in response to the pain even as he tried to cause as little harm as possible with removing and devouring the disease. At least, he assumed that until a more obvious reaction had risen enough to poke at his cheek.

The boy had one arm thrown across his face to hide once again, but Aimaru could only smile at the reaction, remembering that flippant little comment about masochism. He finished his meal at a more deliberate pace than usual, and for dessert he once again took that rising arousal into his mouth, leaving nothing undone.

That would have been more than enough for mutual satisfaction in Aimaru’s eyes, but when he rose to get cleaned up he found himself suddenly pulled back down. One thin arm was winding around him and clinging as lips traced up his jaw. If he hadn’t realized the boy’s intentions at once, a hand suddenly seeking out and fondling a rather intimate part of his body through his trousers made them quite clear.

Aimaru gently pushed his partner–his _patient_ , he reminded himself–away.

“You don’t have to do anything for me. I already got a meal out of it, remember?”

“I know that.” Embarrassment and fierce determination were at equal force now. “I want to.”

And Aimaru didn’t protest that. It felt right to gather that unhealthily frail body against his, to envelope and even enjoy it in a small way. It wasn’t strictly sex–anything so conventional would have aggravated too many physical wounds–but unabashed kissing and fondling and a pair of wonderfully dexterous hands down his trousers was more than enough. Aimaru couldn’t completely justify, even to himself, if it was a necessary part of the healing process, but he was sure there was more than just simple pleasure involved.

They didn’t precisely cuddle afterward, nothing so affectionate, but Aimaru did keep close for a few moments. The alarmingly easy exhaustion of one only just beginning to recover from longtime disease or malnourishment was familiar by now, but he never failed to confirm that there was nothing worse at work under the surface.

Even when he had assured himself that there was nothing more to be done, Aimaru still paused another moment rather than drawing away to let his patient rest.

“What will you do now?”

“I’m leaving this place. I’m going to find somewhere I can support myself without anyone’s help, and I am never looking back.” The diamond-sharp look in the boy’s eyes turned what might have been a wry smile into something hard with determination. Aimaru could only guess what vows lay behind that look, that no one would be able to control him, hurt him, or starve him ever again. “It seems like you’re going to be making such a stir tomorrow nobody will care where I am.”

That was exactly what Aimaru had hoped to hear, and he hadn’t even needed to suggest it. His patient was stubborn enough to stand on his own two feet and make his own path already. That was a good sign.

Not only that, he was stubborn enough to try and get out of bed already, so that Aimaru had to push him down again.

“Rest here tonight. I’ve already paid for the room, and your breakfast.”

The stubborn look was back, making him seem childish in spite of his determination. “I’m not a charity case.”

Aimaru had to be sure not to laugh. It would only be taken the wrong way. “Consider it payment for the meal.”

“You already healed me, it can’t be worth-”

“It was worth that and more.” Not such a rich food as to violate his vows, but more than enough to have him fed and at his prime for the work that needed to be done tomorrow. “You were delicious.”

Aimaru left his patient at a loss for words, with spectacular blush blooming across his narrow face. It was enough for him to know that his patient would be well, free of pain or infection to hold him back. Aimaru would make sure afterward that his patient had escaped successfully, but he was confident in the boy’s chances now.

* * *

Almost before he had closed the door behind him, Takimaru was right in front of him. Aimaru found himself face-to-face with a childishly put-out expression that didn’t match the healing tattoo beneath Takimaru’s right eye. He had expected his young ward to pounce on him, but not quite this quickly.

“Aimaru-san! Is everything all right? It took a long time for you to eat the disease. Was it a bad one?”

Well, not all of his time had been dedicated to eating. Aimaru neglected to mention that, firmly steering Takimaru away from his patient’s room. Takimaru might be a newly-recognized Gourmet Knight now, but there were some things that were meant to stay private.

**Author's Note:**

> While I'm not going to write out the whole thing, my headcanon is that our unnamed OC does get out safely. He takes control of his life, ends up running a roadside inn and rest stop, and forges a loving relationship with his chef (who specializes in udon). Because happy endings, dammit!
> 
> I'd like to think he writes letters to Aimaru and looks after Takimaru from time to time when he's on the road.


End file.
